


Circling The Clock

by PTwritesmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, POV Hermione Granger, POV Remus Lupin, Time Travel, Young Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTwritesmore/pseuds/PTwritesmore
Summary: During the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is hit by a curse and finds herself in the right place, but another time. Met with familiar faces, can Hermione navigate relationships without disturbing the timeline and solve the mystery of the curse to make it back to help her friends defeat Voldemort? And if she can return, how will she deal with the fallout of unintentional time travel?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 42
Kudos: 98





	1. A Mid-Battle Prologue

**1998**

“Hermione, come on,” Ron Weasley yelled from ahead of her as they raced down the familiar corridor. “We need to keep moving!” He urged, looked over his shoulder at her, neither of them stopping. She watched his bright red hair, shaggy from months without a proper haircut, flop about with each step. 

“I’m trying!” Hermione Granger yelled back between pants, her starving and exhausted body failing her at the worst possible time. She was falling behind Ron, blood obscuring the vision in her left eye and her head pounding from the wound. The Battle of Hogwarts was raging around Ron and Hermione as they ran towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. They were so close to destroying another horcrux that Hermione could practically taste it, but the gap between the pair was widening with each second. Following closely behind them was a Death Eater throwing curses that they worked together to block as they ran. “Just keep going, I am right behind you!” Hermione pleaded. The hallway around them was clouded and dark with debris from the fighting, making it hard to see clearly. 

As they rounded the corner, Hermione tripped, bracing herself against the cold stone floor with her hands. She struggled in her scramble to get back up, her ankle screaming in pain. Realizing she must have tweaked it, she knew there was not enough time to fix it with the enemy on her heels. Twisting around, she tried to get up a different way so she could find cover to fix her ankle. Instead, she found herself staring directly into the cold silver mask of a Death Eater.

“Harry Potter’s little mudblood, is it?” a voice hissed in malicious glee from behind the ornate mask. She scooted away, clutching her wand and keeping her eyes on the looming black-clad figure. He threw a curse at her without speaking, which she quickly blocked, her grip on the borrowed wand tightening even further. 

“No!” She heard Ron shout behind her, the panic clear in his voice. Mentally she begged him to keep going without her as she tried to focus on blocking her opponent’s spells. She knew what was ahead of her if she was unable to keep pace with the Death Eater; Dolohov’s spell in the Ministry two years ago nearly killed her and permanently marked her. 

“ _ Stupefy _ !” she yelled at the figure in front of her, who stopped her spell with practiced ease. “Ron, keep going,” she yelled over her shoulder, aware of how hoarse and desperate her voice sounded. “You know what you have to do! Finishing this is the most important thing.” She threw a wordless curse at the Death Eater, who blocked it again as he advanced aggressively.

“Shame we will have to do this quickly. Usually, I’d take you back as a reward,” the imposing man taunted from behind his mask, sending shivers down Hermione’s spine as she remembered the torture she endured at Malfoy Manor. “But maybe we can still have some fun.” The way the man drew out the word fun sucked all the breath out of Hermione’s lungs. 

“ _ Confringo _ ,” Ron yelled forcefully from behind her, his voice much louder than before. Hermione’s stomach sunk as she realized he was getting closer to her and further from the way to destroy the horcrux. The Death Eater laughed mockingly as he blocked Ron’s spell. 

  
“What is this? A blood traitor coming back to save the pathetic mudblood?” Hermione tried to get up, but her ankle, unable to support her, throbbed and gave out. “Is it true love then? I know exactly what we can do for the two of you.” Hermione began hurling wordless spells from her seat on the ground, before spotting more Death Eaters running towards them from down the hallway. Behind her Ron started sending a flurry of curses towards her opponent as well. With his distraction, she hit the Death Eater with a leg locker curse and she stood up to go. The pain in her ankle numbed as she began to move and distantly she recalled reading an article on adrenaline’s impact on the body. Before she could devote any more time to thinking about it, the hallway began to fill with different colored light streams, with green as the most predominantly featured. She hobbled towards Ron, who bravely stood in the middle of the hall trying to provide her cover. She looked behind her, seeing more and more Death Eaters gathering with no one else from the Order to be seen.

“Please save us,” she whispered to no one in particular as she tried her best to hustle, sending a curse over her shoulder. “Please, please,” she begged quietly to nothing as tears pricked her eyes. Hermione had never been a particularly religious person, her parents both agnostics who favoured science over the abstract. After finding out about magic, she devoured most of the religious texts of Western ideologies, as well as some eastern belief systems, but that was out of academic interest rather than spiritual longing. Categorizing them as allegorical texts, she found the research insightful when considering early representation of magic and the intersection of magical and muggle. Past that, she was never someone who subscribed to any sect of faith nor any superstition. She laughed at divination, ignored the idea behind the Grim, and left silent wishes unuttered. Instead, Hermione knew she could only count on facts, logic, and people to get things accomplished. Yet something overcame her as she looked death in the face again, one of countless times since she was eleven. This time, however, it looked final. “Please,” she whispered again as she watched her friend struggle to fend off the spells flying his way. 

She’d nearly reached Ron when she turned her head again to assess their situation. Wordlessly the Death Eater who first attacked them shot a blast of orange light towards Ron. As it barreled towards him, Hermione jumped into its path, still running towards Ron. Suddenly she felt the stab in her back, a searing pain she’d never felt the likes of before. A piercing scream wretched itself from her mouth, sounding utterly unlike any noise she’d ever made before. Hermione saw Ron’s face twist into a swirl of anger, regret, and sorrow. Quickly she realized that Ron’s pained expression would be the last thing she ever saw. Hermione was surprised with how okay she felt about that. But she left the Burrow all those months ago willing to sacrifice her life to finish this; nothing had changed. 

“ _ I love you, Ron. I love you, Harry. I love you Mum and Dad. Please be okay without me, _ ” she thought to herself as she closed her eyes and succumbed to the darkness as she fell. Everything became quiet, before she heard a loud crack. She opened her eyes and, suddenly, the hallway was empty, it was broad daylight, and she was alive. 


	2. Blast Into The Past

**1977**

“I just want to try it, Moony,” Sirius whined, practically skipping next to Remus as he pleaded his case. Remus bit back the urge to roll his eyes. It was the seventh time Sirius had brought this topic up since they returned to Hogwarts last week for their final year, despite Remus’ obvious disinterest. His best friend could be absolutely relentless when he wanted to and, unfortunately for Remus, he usually wanted to be. “Can you blame a bloke? That hidden passage through the dungeon is the perfect place. No one knows about it, so plenty of privacy.”

“Try it all you want, Padfoot,” said Remus tersely as he picked up his pace. The full moon was just days away, making him restless and more aggressive. As much as Remus loved him, Sirius was wearing his patience today. They were already going to be late to Potions with Slughorn because of the dark haired boy’s insistence that they take a specific route so he could “accidentally” run into a fifth year Hufflepuff he’d had his eye on. Now Sirius was back to bugging him about this. “But I’m still a prefect and James is Head Boy now. If you do it on school grounds, you certainly can’t tell either of us in advance,” he explained more calmly, trying to get a hold on his composure.

“Well, it has to be four or more to count, so I was hoping -” Remus held up a hand to cut off his friend, who glared at Remus as he loosen his maroon and gold tie and waited for the sandy haired man to speak. Sirius had ditched his school robe earlier in the day and had his sleeves pushed up to show off the new magical tattoo of paw prints walking across his wrist. Remus, while perpetually slightly disheveled, was in his proper uniform. 

“Don’t finish that sentence, Padfoot,” Remus warned exasperatedly. “As I’ve said several times now, I am not particularly interested in partaking in that sort of experience, especially not  _ here _ ,” he added quietly, hoping Sirius would drop the latest item of interest on his sexual must do list. His best friend was practically infamous at Hogwarts for his romancing abilities, but Remus was markedly less experienced. He’d been on a handful of dates, but mostly stuck to himself, trying to spare witches the potential shame of being caught dating a werewolf should his secret come out.

“Not even for me? This is on my bucket list!” The boy whined, puffing out his bottom lip and making his eyes excessively wide. 

“Especially not for you, git,” Remus laughed, giving Sirius a small shove. “You know that puppy dog shite doesn’t work on me.” Sirius tried to look offended, but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Is there a reason you’re pushing so hard on this today of all days?” Remus asked in a gentle accusatory tone, leveling Sirius with a questioning look. Sirius rarely had the good sense to look shameful when caught, instead smiling widely at him. “Fucking arse. Why not just try James or Peter?”

“I don’t think Peter would be my best wingman for this,” Sirius said softly, giving Remus a pointed look. Remus rolled his eyes, but nodded, thinking of how much Peter struggled talking to witches. He’d not made it below the belt with anyone yet, so he clearly wouldn’t be at the top of Sirius’ list. “And James would never,” he continued. “MacDonald is one of the birds I was thinking would agree and she’d tell Evans immediately. But you - you have an in with her,” Sirius smirked. “Especially after last year.”

Remus growled in annoyance, remembering the kiss Sirius was hinting about. Mary MacDonald, who had tried to pursue Remus for nearly the entirety of last year, could not be dissuaded no matter how many excuses he gave or gentle rejections he issued. She was a lovely witch, kind and beautiful, which made Remus even more desperate to avoid tainting her. He’d made it practically the entire school year avoiding her advances, but in one night in May she’d appealed to his inner wolf directly. It was during a post-quidditch party the night before the full moon when MacDonald cornered him in the corner of the common room and they’d had a rather public snog. She pulled him out the portrait hole and into an abandoned classroom, where things naturally progressed. 

“Fuck off, you know how hard it is for me,” Remus said harshly, a wave of shame overtaking him as he thought of all the other snogging sessions in dark alcoves with witches he never sought out again. While those instances were all driven by Moony, it didn’t make Remus feel any less ashamed. 

“Hard indeed,” Sirius sing-songed, waggling his eyebrows like mad, making Remus huff in irritation. “What? Worried about ruining your reputation by actually doing something interesting for once?”

“Ah, yes, that is exactly what I need. Because my life isn’t  _ interesting _ enough,” Remus said sarcastically. “Between my situation and covering for you and James, I’d certainly call my life dull.” Sirius let out a bark of laughter, melting the displeasure that was building within Remus. Typically his patience was endless for his friends, especially Sirius, who liked to push everyone’s buttons. He was thankful Sirius, who could be sensitive, wasn’t too offended by the temper that took over for a handful of days every month. 

“Oh, I know what this is about. You’re worried about looking inadequate when the birds see my big co-”

Sirius was cut off by a flash of blue light with a terrible cracking sound. Ahead of them a small form of a witch appeared, running towards them at full speed. They watched her twist around and wordlessly throw a curse from her wand, a stream of red light erupting down the hall. She skidded to a stop, staring at the empty space she directed the curse at. Remus and Sirius looked at each other, surprise and fear passing between them. 

“Did she just apparate?” Sirius asked in shock, his gray eyes wide. 

“Shouldn’t be possible,” said hoarsely, his adrenaline spiking and inner wolf growling at the unexpected intrusion. Remus took off running toward her, with Sirius following close behind. The girl was looking around, her back still to them, a wild nest of caramel curls whipping side to side with each turn of her head.

“Pardon me,” Remus said loudly, causing the girl to spin around, her wand drawn on him. She looked like a caged animal, frightened, but ready to fight. Bleeding from a particularly nasty gash above her eye, the left half of her face was stained a dark red. The scent of the blood hit Remus intensely as she turned, making him especially uneasy. He heard Sirius let out a gasp, but he wasn’t sure if it was the bloody sight or the oppressive iron smell that shocked his animagus friend.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, putting his hands up to show he was not a threat to her.

“Where are they? What happened?” The panic in her voice was clear, sending a chill down Remus’ spine. He recognized that feeling, one he often felt waking up the morning after a full moon. 

“Who?” Remus asked as gently as possible, hands still in the air.

“The Death Eaters!” The girl said shrilly, now shaking involuntarily. Remus noticed how thin she looked and the dark circles below her scared eyes. “They were right there, following me,” she added, pointing behind her where she’d fired the curse earlier. 

“Bloody hell,” Sirius whispered from behind Remus. He silently agreed with his friend’s assessment of the situation. 

“I got hit,” the witch added, dazed. “I got hit in the back. Ron and I were - oh no! Where is Ron?”

“It’s okay,” Remus whispered, finally finding his voice again. “There are no Death Eaters here. You’re safe.” He tried to make the last word as warm as possible to convey that he would help her. 

The girl stared at him as he said it. Her firewhiskey eyes widened, a look of recognition passing over her gaunt features. “Remus, “ the girl breathed out his name like a sigh of relief. He’d never heard a witch say his name like that, like his name was water and they were trapped in a desert. Yet, here was one he didn’t know finding familiar refuge just by looking at him. “Remus, is that you? Oh, thank Merlin you’re here,” she said quickly, suddenly appearing calmer. She pulled him in for a hug.“Where did everyone go? If we are together did you also get hit by the hex?” she asked, talking fast now as she rested her head to his chest. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her shoulders while she squeezed his waist. Under the oppressive scent of the blood, she smelled like vanilla. As it hit him the wolf within paused, seemingly waiting for something. Remus was in shock for a moment at the inner stillness. The wolf, always pacing, scratching, howling, growling, was an ever present entity within him that had never stopped moving. This close to the full moon, it was particularly chaotic. He wondered what it could be waiting for. 

She pulled her head back to look at him, not breaking the embrace, and studied his face with tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Remus tried not to squirm under her analytical gaze. He wasn’t used to unknown women holding him or staring at him this intimately. “You look different,” the witch said, cupping his chin with her hand to get a better look at him. “What,” she paused, outlining a scar on his cheek, one that he hated, without touching it, “happened to your face? Do I look different too?” 

“Moony, I want to know what you did to have a bloodied bird crawling all over you,” Sirius demanded, apparently unable to hold his questions in any longer. The girl seemed to freeze at his voice, her dark brows furrowed and her fingers still ghosting his cheek. “Is this some sort of prank? Because if it is, you certainly got me.”

“Fuck off, I haven’t done anything,” Remus said over his shoulder, not letting go of the injured witch. There was an urge to keep hold of her as long as he could, to protect her. He glared at Sirius, who had moved closer.

“Sirius?” The girl choked out, her voice cracking with emotion. She broke away from Remus, who immediately mourned the loss of contact, and looked at Sirius, her jaw hanging open. “Sirius!” She pulled him into a deep hug, crying again. “How are you here?” Remus couldn’t ignore the small feeling of jealousy nagging at him from the back of his brain as he watched Sirius wrap his arms hesitantly around the witch’s shoulders. Remus couldn’t keep his gaze off the back of her head, trying desperately to place her. 

Sirius gave Remus a frantic glance over the girl’s head, which Remus could only shrug at. He was just as confused as Sirius, if not more, as witches never threw themselves into his arms, whereas Sirius should have been relatively used to it at this point. 

“You’re so young. Do-Does this mean I’m dead too? That we -” she looked back at Remus, a muted look of horror on her face. “Are dead? 

“I know I look like an angel, love, but I can assure you that you haven’t reached heaven yet. If you want to come back to my dorm room though -” 

“Sirius,” Remus warned, his anger mounting as he looked at his brazen best friend. “This is  _ obviously _ not the time for that.”

“I died and I can’t go back to help them,” the bleeding witch said in a small voice, backing away from the two boys. Her breathing audibly quickened and Remus could hear her heart pounded from where he stood.

“Look, I think you’ve hurt your head pretty badly. Sirius and I can take you to the Hospital Wing.” He moved a few steps closer, unsure of how to calm her down. “I’m a prefect, you can trust me.”

“No, this is all wrong, it doesn’t make sense. We have to go  _ back _ , Remus. Hogwarts is under attack right  _ now _ .”’

“No, it’s not,” Remus promised. He gestured around to the empty hallway, as quiet and calm as he hoped he could help her be. “Look around, it is safe. Wherever you just came from, you’re safe from that I promise.” The witch shook her head vigorously before dropping to her knees struggling to breath. 

“I think she is having a panic attack,” Remus said to Sirius, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. “So sorry about this Miss -  _ stupify  _ .” He caught her unconscious form before she hit the floor. “Let’s levitate her down to the Hospital Wing.” As he held her, he felt a wet sensation on his hand. Turning her over, he realized she had been telling the truth about being hit in the back. She was bleeding through her jacket. He lifted it up, hoping she’d eventually forgive him for the intrusion to see a purple wound on her lower back, bleeding and raw. As he watched it, it seemed alive, twitching and growing. 

“Fuck,” Sirius exhaled as he saw it. “She is in bad shape. What kind of curse is that?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Remus replied, mesmerized by the pulsing wound. “Let’s go,” he said urgently, levitating her in front of them. 

“How does she know us?” Sirius asked, looking suspiciously at the unconscious witch. 

“I don’t know.” Remus was wracking his brain as he looked at her, trying desperately to remember meeting her or seeing her. 

“She really sounded like she knew you, Remus,” Sirius made his voice high at the end, sounding out his name in a breathy voice like the mystery witch did. Remus shot him a look so scathing that Sirius straightened up and dropped the act. “Sorry, sorry. Just figured maybe you were holding out on us.”

“Get James and Peter and meet me down in the Hospital Wing. Maybe they can help us figure out what is happening.” Sirius gave him a mock salute before turning and walking the other way. “And tell them to bring me chocolate from my emergency stash!” He yelled over his shoulder, hoping Sirius heard him. “Merlin knows I need it right now,” Remus muttered to himself as he looked down at the limp form of the mystery witch floating ahead of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excited to bring the Marauders in next chapter! Thoughts, theories, and comments very welcome!


	3. The Hospital Wing

Hermione felt a gentle warmth on her face first, the sensation slowly pulling her out of the darkness. Next she recognized the coziness of the blanket wrapped around her, her arms tucked under it as though she were cocooning. Having not felt comfort like this in her nearly year on the run, Hermione sighed happily and began to wiggle a bit down to get settled. However with the movement came the acute awareness of a numb pain in her lower back. As the pain became more pronounced, a much sharper pain in her head followed. Unhappily cracking open an eye, her bleary vision showed only a blinding white light coming through a window. Hermione slammed her eye shut again before the events that had brought her here slammed into her like a tidal wave: she’d been injured in the battle. Eager to find her bearings, the brunette sat up quickly and rubbed her eyes. As the room came into focus, Hermione immediately spotted a figure next to her. 

Sitting next to her hospital bed was, unmistakably, Harry Potter, unharmed and asleep in his chair. She was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts and Harry Potter was waiting for her to wake up, his hands folded over his chest and his head tilted to the side as he snored quietly. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, Hermione began to cry, the worries that had plagued her for months leaving her like smoke from a candle once the flame is blown out. She was alive. Harry was alive. They’d made it through the battle, possibly even won the war. Hermione had never felt relief like this before in her life, which was remarkable given the countless near death experiences she and her friends faced since she was 12. 

“Harry! Oh, Circe,” she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. She felt him jolt violently under her as she woke him up. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she gasped, thinking gratefully of the many other times they’d woken to the other next to a hospital bed in this very room. “I had the strangest dream after I got hit about Remus and Sirius. Di- did we win? Where is Ron? Is he okay? Did you kill-” As she pulled back from their embrace to continue her questioning she was met with wide brown eyes staring at her with concern behind his round glasses, rather than the green ones she knew so well. Hermione’s stomach dropped as she searched his face. “You’re not Harry.” Hermione quickly retracted her hands and scrambled away from the imposter. The pain in her back intensified as she moved. 

“Certainly not,” a deep voice behind her laughed. “But if you’re into hairy chaps, you should see Remus and me, love.” Her eyes landed on the pair of boys to her left. Sitting next to her were Sirius and Remus, though much younger than she’d ever seen them before. Except in the dream she’d just had, which she was now realizing had been no dream at all. Sirius was wiggling his dark eyebrows suggestively, a teasing smile playing at his lips, and Remus was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head warily. Which meant - 

“James?” she whispered, looking back at the boy she’d originally thought was her best friend. The messy hair, jawline, and bewildered look in his eyes were all familiar. But as she studied him Hermione spotted differences she originally missed. He was wearing his Gryffindor school uniform, completed with his Head Boy pin. She hadn’t seen Harry in school robes in nearly a year, let alone with the Head pin she had once coveted. This boy was built and broad, whereas Harry had always been more slender; he was scarily skinny when she’d seen him just hours ago. Or maybe days, she wasn’t sure now. Her head felt fuzzy, like when she tried to read late at night, fighting off sleeping to continue, but not able to properly focus on the words. “James Potter?” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his wrong-colored eyes darting between her and the two boys to her left. 

“Er - yes, that’s me,” he answered, in a confused voice that was much raspier than Harry’s. It was nearly like nails on a chalkboard to hear the wrong voice come out of that body, even though consciously she knew it wasn’t Harry.

Hermione looked around the Hospital Wing, dumbfounded. Empty beds surrounded them, the room nearly silent. It wouldn’t be empty or quiet after a battle. There should be injured people everywhere, chaos and noise swirling as people tended to the wounded. Instead, she was sitting in a noiseless room, surrounded only by three young men, two of whom should not be alive. Or four young men, she realized in dismay as movement at the end of the bed caught her eye. 

“Sorry, but have we met?” She ignored James’ question, looking past him at a slightly chubby boy towards the end of the bed. 

“Which must make you Peter Pettigrew,” her voice was cold as she spat his name out of her mouth, the Ps popping sharply. Hermione felt her mouth twist into a hateful sneer as she glared at him. The blond boy squirmed uncomfortably, pinned by her stare. 

“H-hi,” the wizard stuttered, looking around at the other boys nervously and bouncing his leg as she continued to watch him. 

“How is it that you know our names and we’ve never met you before?” Remus asked sharply, pulling her attention towards him. His curious green eyes were trained on her, searching for something in her face. As long as she’d know him, as pensive as he was, he’d never looked at her so intensely. It unnerved her. 

“You’re underestimating how popular we are with the ladies,” Sirius replied with a wink. “Like one of our pranks, did you? I’d wager it was the mood hair prank from last term that got your attention. Some of my finest work. I am the brains of the operation,” he said, puffing his chest out as he addressed Hermione. The last sentence got scoffs from the rest of the boys as well as a few muttered rude words from James. Hermione, however, was not paying attention to them anymore. Instead, she was finding it incredibly hard to breath.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered to herself, trying to figure out how she was even here. Or if she was even really there, wondering if she was actually dying on the stone floor of the castle and this was her brain trying to compensate in her last moments. “I have to get back. I need to wake up. I’ve left them all to die.”

“You left who to die?” Remus asked, agitation in his lighter voice, which was not something she often heard when he spoke to her. Hermione shook her head at him, desperately wishing he was her Remus instead. Her favorite professor, her friend, the man who, however misguided, wanted to protect her and her friends on their horcrux hunt. He would know what to do right now. Instead, she was stuck looking at some sort of shell of him, like a poorly copied essay that someone only got halfway through. “ _ Like one of Ron’s Divination essays probably _ ,” she thought with a hopeless laugh cracking to her exterior. The boys around her looked even more concerned at the noise. 

“I’ve left my best friends to die and I’m stuck with the damned Marauders,” she practically yelled, making all the wizards’ eyes widen before they shared confused glances. “This is like the gallows humor of the universe, some sort of fever dream while I’m dying.” That dark laugh came out again, but now it was more like a hopeless gasp. She shook her head as the tears came. “They’re all going to die, they’re all going to -” Hermione couldn’t breath, choking on nothing. 

“Madam Pomfrey, it is happening again!” She distantly heard Remus’ voice call out, sounding panicked. As the older witch came into view, Hermione could feel air return to her lungs. The Healer looked like the same caring woman who had nursed her countless times as a child. There was no doubt that this witch was safe and could help her fix whatever was happening to her. Or make her wake up, if she was some sort of form in her subconscious. 

“Madam Pompfrey,” Hermione cried, aware of the desperation still in her voice as she grabbed the witch’s arm and pulled her closer. The Healer looked concerned as she glanced between Hermione’s face and the hand clawed around her wrist. “Poppy, Poppy, it’s me, it’s me, we have to go back and save them. Now!”

“Take this,” the witch said, holding out a small cup, which Hermione knew well enough was Dreamless Sleep. She tried to shrink back, but found she’d been magically restrained. The witch held her mouth open and tipped the cup back, the liquid sliding slowly down Hermione’s dry throat. She wondered when the last time she’d had water was as she was held there. “There we go, sweetheart,” the witch said, removing her hand and stepping back. 

“No, you have to help me!” Hermione pleaded, feeling herself grow woozy. “You have to -” As she slowly lost the battle with wakefulness, she could see Remus staring down at her with a familiar look of distress on his too young and strangely handsome face. Then her vision went black.

The four boys stared at the witch incredulously as she fell into unconsciousness. “Did she call you Poppy?” James whirled around to the Healer with a large smile on his face, making the other three boys chuckle. Remus knew the mischievous look on his friend’s face all too well. But he also knew the Healer better than any of them and settled in for her response. 

“I have never had a student call me that before,” the Healer considered, her eyebrows drawn and a frown on her face as she watched the sleeping witch. “So don’t you four troublemakers get any ideas,” she added, with a searing look of warning that she swept across all four. James’ face dropped from mischievous to humble, making Remus struggle to hold in a laugh. “But I am good with names and faces,” Madam Pompfrey said absentmindedly, looking back down at the mystery girl. “I haven’t seen this girl in here before and I’d never forget a student, especially one who knows me well enough to address me by my first name.”

“Well, she isn’t a Gryffindor,” Peter insisted, looking relieved the witch was unconscious now. “We’d know her.”

“Whoever this poor girl is, she is in terrible shape. I can’t believe someone would do all this to a child,” the nurse tutted as she tucked her in again. 

"Poppy?” Minerva McGonagall called as she walked into the Hospital Wing. “I got your message, what has happened?” She asked hurriedly as Madam Pompfrey stepped away from the bed to talk to the Deputy Headmistress. 

“Aunt Minnie,” James stood quickly and intercepted her with a hug before the two women reached each other. With a look of surprise, Professor McGonagall turned to see the other three boys surrounding the unconscious witch. She crossed her arms and looked at them sternly. 

“Why is it when there is trouble, it is always you four?” The professor asked, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” Remus muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs from Sirius. 

“It wasn’t our trouble this time!” Peter exclaimed, pointing at the sleeping witch. McGonagall walked closer, examining the girl from the end of the bed. 

“Remus and I were rather dashing heroes today, Aunt Minnie,” Sirius winked at her, causing her to smack him on the shoulder. “I’d think you’d be proud of your lions,” he continued evenly, rubbing the place she’d hit. “Again, Mister Black, none of you are allowed to call me that on school grounds! Only at Potter Manor!” The older witch reprimanded. “Tell me what happened.”

Remus quickly recounted their morning so far, mentioning she said she’d been hit by a hex in a battle that the girl believed was happening at the school. His favorite professor’s eyebrows furrowed at this, glancing at the slumbering form again. Before he could mention the Death Eaters, she interrupted him. 

“Very well. You boys stay put, we will just be a moment,” McGonagall instructed as she and the Healer walked towards her office. “Behave,” she added, shooting a withering warning look over her shoulder. The four boys wordlessly nodded. As they heard the women go into Madam Pompfrey’s office, Remus stood, motioning for his friends to stay, and snuck quietly to the wall next to the door. He strained to hear what they were saying.

  
“And once I got her into the bed, he was yelling about Death Eaters and was in quite a state. Her injuries are grave. Do you think they’ve come to Hogwarts, Minerva?” Remus could hear the fear in Healer’s voice, something he’d never heard in the seemingly fearless witch before. 

“No, Poppy. But this is highly unusual, especially with Remus saying she popped in out of nowhere.”

“In all my years caring for that sweet boy, I have never seen him so upset. I think he must know more than he is saying, Minerva.” At this Remus’ brows hit his hairline and his heart rate skyrocketed in worry; did they think he was involved with Death Eaters? “He is a private, shy boy and he was  _ very _ familiar with her. He may know her.”

“I highly doubt that. She is a pretty girl who he rescued. And as you said, he is a sweet and shy boy. You were young once, I’m sure you can imagine what is happening.” Remus felt a blush creep up his chest to his cheeks as the two women sat with that statement in silence. 

“I suppose you are right. Now as for the witch in question: it appears that she took a curse to the back just before she got to Hogwarts. Remus was adamant she apperated, but in addition to the issue of the wards, I sincerely believe she would have splinched herself.”

“When she wakes up, I’m sure Albus will question her about that. Any other information about her injuries?” The professor’s voice was low and analytical. 

“Whatever hit her is Dark magic and slowly spreading, as if it is eating her flesh from the inside. I’m working on identifying it now, but I have never seen anything like it. It is a real possibility we’ll lose this girl.” At that Remus felt sick, his stomach churning at the hopelessness of the situation. “One more thing. She has several healed wounds I’d expect to see on weathered Aurors, not a person so young. I suspect torture. She has an especially vile scar on her -”

“Mister Lupin, I do expect you are not eavesdropping,” McGonagall’s piercing voice called out. He huffed and sigh and let his eyes roll skyward; he never understood how she always knew when he was up to something. Remus stepped into the room, hanging his head as though he were ashamed at getting caught. He, however, felt with the information he learned that it was a necessary invasion. 

  
“I’m sorry. It’s just - I am just worried,” Remus said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Both witches’ faces relaxed at his awkwardness. “She knew us Professor,” Remus added. “By name. And none of us know her.”

“Interesting,” McGonagall said, considering him for a moment before turning to Madam Pompfrey. “We will have to wait for Albus before we do anything, but please continue to look for the countercurse.”

“When will Professor Dumbledore be back?” Remus asked, knowing he was pushing his luck by asking questions. 

“Tomorrow morning, Mister Lupin. Now, if that is all -”

“Do you mind if we stay with her until then?” Remus blurted out, a bit too loud. Now he actually felt embarrassed, standing in front of these two women studying him with curiosity. “She seemed really scared,” he added quietly, hoping that explained his tone. 

“Of course,” MacGonagall said, almost smiling and with a knowing look in her eye. “But at the first sight of trouble, you’re all out,” she said, her face snapping back into her usual no nonsense expression. Remus nodded, walking back towards the bed. Behind him he heard McGonagall bid Madam Pompfrey goodbye before walking out. 

The sandy haired wizard sat down, shushing the other boys as he waited with his head cocked to the side. As soon as he heard the quiet click of Madam Pompfrey’s office door, he quickly motioned to James. “Prongs, coast is clear, pull out the map.”

“Good idea, Moony,” Peter whispered, nodding excitedly.

“The good idea was sending Remus to deal with the professors. Have you considered becoming a professional kissass Mister Moony?” Sirius asked, pursing up his lips and making little kissing sounds. 

“Are you sure that isn’t just what you want him to do to you?” Peter smiled devilishly before blowing Sirius an overexaggerated kiss. 

“Sirius, you are just jealous that Aunt Minnie likes him best,” James said quickly, interrupting whatever Sirius’ retort would be. “Don’t try to deny it.”

“Sometimes it pays to be polite.” Remus smiled at his friends and shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that, Padfoot,” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. His friend gave him the two finger salute before James got their attention. 

“It says here her name is Hermione Granger. Anyone recognize it?” The three others shook their heads at James. 

“Sounds like a French name,” Peter said, thinking deeply. “Hermione is a strange one.”

“She must be around our age. Maybe a year older?” Remus was staring at her intensely, following the curve of her cheek down her slender neck to the bit of clavicle exposed by the hospital robe. For a moment, his eyes wandered further down to where the blanket covered, but he snapped them back up at his friends. 

“She has to be a Hogwarts student, she knew our names and called us Marauders,” Peter offered up. He smiled as the others nodded in agreement. 

“Maybe she is a Ravenclaw in another year. A few of those birds rarely leave their dorm or the library,” James said, looking to the others for input. “I could see her being hidden behind a book.”

“She was wearing muggle clothing when she turned up - really baggy muggle clothing,” Sirius added.

“Is it baggy or just too big? She looks like she’d been starved,” James grimaced at the girl, clearly feeling pity for her. Remus wondered briefly if that is how he looked at him after figuring out his secret. 

“Starved and bloodied. You should’ve seen her, it was like she’d fit right in with Nearly Headless Nick,” Sirius scoffed. “I thought she might’ve been a ghost at first, the way she popped out of nowhere.”

“Whatever she was running from, it must’ve been bad. Moony, did she tell you how she got hurt?”

“She just said Death Eaters did this to her,” Remus whispered, his voice cracking with anger. James and Peter blanched. 

“That is what they are calling themselves, right?” James asked looking at Sirius. The boy with long hair gave a curt nod and said nothing, but his friends could see his anger bubbling just under the surface. Remus knew he was thinking of Regulus, who Sirius was certain either had been already recruited or would be shortly. 

“She also mentioned a battle that she needed to get back to. But she thought the battle was happening here at Hogwarts,” Remus added. “It made no sense.”

“She has a head injury,” Peter shrugged, nodding at her freshly healed head wound. “Perhaps she is just confused.”

“There was one thing she wasn’t confused about. She did  _ not _ like you Wormtail,” James laughed and Peter frowned. 

“Girls rarely do,” Sirius goaded, all smiles again. 

“Hey!” The shorter boy exclaimed before treating them all to a rude gesture. 

“She’s much prettier without the blood though,” Sirius stared at the girl as he wet his lips. While he normally put up with his friend’s extreme interest in pursuing people, Sirius’ action made Remus’ skin crawl. “Perhaps we could befriend this Hermione.”

“Sirius,” Remus growled. “Can you contain yourself for once?”

“Uh oh, does Moony like her?” Remus huffed as he caught the teasing twinkle in Sirius’ eye. 

“No!” Remus said, a bit too loudly. The other three boys chortled as Remus felt himself turning pink. 

“Why not? She’s a good looking witch,” Sirius added, winking at him. “Right Prongs, Wormtail?” Peter shrugged, while James shook his head. 

“She’s no Evans,” he said simply, causing the other boys to groan.

“We’ve got to get you focused somewhere else, mate,” Sirius said. “It has been years and she hasn’t shown any interest. You’re wasting prime time.” “She’ll come around,” James insisted. “I’ll win her over this year, I know it. Since she's Head Girl this year we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Besides, I took Moony’s advice and have been playing it cool.”

“Like Moony is the one to ask,” the dark haired boy said, shoving Remus next to him playfully. “I still say the best way to get over a bird, is to get under another,” Sirius waggled his eyebrows dangerously. “Speaking of which, there is something I’ve been wanting to try and Moony is apparently too intimidated to jo-”

“Listen,” Remus cut off his friend with a pointed look. “She may have apperated past Hogwarts’ wards and I watched her throw out a wordless curse before we got to her. She arrived looking like she’d jumped from a war. I don’t think she is a Hogwarts student, but maybe a recent graduate. Maybe an Auror trainee?”

The boys froze as the girl shifted between them, her face seized up as though she was in pain. In that moment, Remus realized that since she’d been placed in the bed, the wolf within had been silent, still, and waiting. Remus ignored both that concerning thought and the overwhelming urge to run his thumb between her eyebrows to smooth the pinch there. His friends began to quietly discuss more theories as Remus focused on the witch in front of him, wondering what she could be dreaming about after taking Dreamless Sleep. This Hermione shifted again, turning towards him and bringing her arms over the covers. As she settled, the left sleeve of her hospital robe scrunched up and exposed a red, angry scar that took over most of her inner forearm. From his spot the wound looked a bit like a jumble of letters and Remus twisted his head to the side to see if the scar spelled anything. To his horror, he found that it did. 

“Her arm,” Remus whispered, a rock in his gut as he read the word over and over. Someone had carved the word mudblood into her arm. He felt a slow cold rage filling him, one that woke up his inner wolf. “Her arm,” he snarled louder, pulling the attention of his friends. 

“Fuck!” Sirius cursed loudly as Peter gasped. Remus looked up to see all the color drained from James’ face. “It’s a cursed wound,” Sirius said, his voice cracking. “Looks like a Dark knife or something. Someone took the time to attack a muggleborn and carve that slur into her arm.” As Sirius spoke, Remus took a deep breath, counting to 10 like his mother taught him when he struggled to contain his emotions. He repeated the process before speaking again.

“It isn’t fresh. Maybe a month or two old.” Remus said, ghosting his fingers over the wound, crusted and deep. He was deeply familiar with scars, covered in them since the attack that turned him. Each scar reminded him of what he was and how much he hated that part of himself; whoever did this to Hermione Granger wanted her to feel the same. Only she was no monster, she was just a regular witch being hunted down and attacked by men worse than any villain he’d ever read about. “That means the attack today was not her first. I overheard Pompfrey mention that she suspected torture from some of her injuries.”

“Who is this girl?” James asked, uncharacteristically scared. Remus realized he was thinking of another muggleborn witch, one he was in love with. Sirius must have realized the same thing because he reached over and patted James on the shoulder without comment. 

“I intend to figure that out,” Remus said softly, watching the sleeping witch. He didn’t see his three friends exchange concerned glances behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a lot of dialogue - what did you think of the Marauders trying to figure out the mystery?


	4. Conversations

Hermione woke again, this time in the pitch black of night. She groaned softly as she shifted, her whole body aching. As she blinked away sleep, it all flooded back to her, the battle, the hallway, the hospital. This was no dying dream. Somehow the curse she’d taken not only injured her, but also placed her backwards in time. 

Hermione stared into the darkness above her and started organizing her thoughts to make a plan. The residual effect of the potion Poppy gave her earlier was still making her head foggy. She sighed in frustration, wishing she had parchment so she could sort out her thoughts on paper. 

“Who is Harry? Is he with Ron?” a quiet voice asked from her bedside, causing Hermione to jump. A figure stood there, his face shrouded in the darkness.

“How do you know their names?” Her voice came out harsh as she reached for her wand on the table by the bed. When nothing was there, she started to panic, fumbling around the bed for anything to defend herself with. The dark figure put up his hands when he saw her frantically searching for her wand. 

“Relax, relax.  _ Lumos _ ,” the figure said quietly, revealing himself to be Remus in the light. “It’s just me.” She nearly flinched when she looked at him, his younger appearance offputting. Yet she couldn’t pull her eyes away, tracing his strong jawline and noticing the lack of scars and overwhelming weariness she was so used to when she looked at Remus. She thought he looked rather handsome, but then immediately chastised herself for thinking that way about a  _ married _ professor. “When you landed in front of me earlier you mentioned a Ron. Then you thought James was someone named Harry. And about twenty minutes ago I woke up to you crying in your sleep about losing Harry. Your boyfriend?”

“Brother.” 

Remus nodded, the corner of one side of his mouth turning up slightly. Hermione had a hard time not smiling back. After a beat she spoke again, “Can you tell me - can you tell me what the date is?”

“September 7th,” Remus said slowly, his lips morphing rapidly into a small frown. Hermione desperately wanted to ask more, but swallowed her questions to avoid suspicion. She knew it had to be 1977, given James’ head boy badge she spotted earlier. 

“Thank you, I’ve been on the run for quite a long time, living in a tent.” 

His mouth twisted further, the frown becoming more pronounced on his too young face. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Not really. My brain feels like it’s coming out of a heavy fog.” Hermione knew it was a flimsy response, but she wasn’t sure what she could say to Remus. She’d already broken the first rule Professor MacGonegall taught her when she gave her the time turner her third year: don’t be seen. Now she knew she should at least hold herself to the other: don’t tell anyone. 

“That makes sense,” Remus said. “With everything you were saying, I think you hurt your head. We know you were hit with a Dark curse. Madam Pomfrey said it was serious, but slow moving. She is working on the countercurse now, so nothing to worry about,” Remus reassured, and suddenly his face looked much more like the man she knew. “You were dehydrated, so she gave you fluids. Are you in pain? Want me to wake her or to get you anything?” As he spoke she took stock of her pain, noting the sharp ache in her back. She decided to stay as still as she could.

“No,” Hermione said after considering the potential curses that could send her backwards in time. She knew of none. “It hurts, but nothing I can’t handle. Thank you, though.” He nodded, looking down at his feet. 

“Please let me know. Would you care for some chocolate?” The timid wizard offered, gazing back up at her. Hermione grinned, thinking of Remus; Remus from her time, anyway. She nodded and he quickly produced a small chocolate bar from the bag sitting at his feet. Images of her favorite professor sneaking chocolate between classes or guzzling hot chocolate at Grimmauld flashed in her mind.

They ate their chocolate in silence as Hermione looked around her, realizing James and Sirius were both still here. Her eyes fell on Sirius. While he had been a bit of a cad when she knew him, he was gaunt, stressed, and not all there all the time. This Sirius was good-looking and wild, though even in his sleep he looked haughty. 

“Don’t let him catch you looking at him like that while he’s awake,” Remus warned, humor in his voice laced with something Hermione couldn’t identify. “He’ll never let up. He fancies himself a bit of a ladies man and staring like that will work wonders on his inflated ego.”

“Thanks for the warning, though I doubt it will be a problem.” 

Remus’ eyes cut back to her, his sandy brows furrowed. He looked a bit like Ron when she surprised him. The connection made her heart clench up, a reminder that she didn’t have time for a leisurely chat with her friend from the past. Her best friends, her family were in danger and she needed to focus. 

“An inanimate object could be a problem for Sirius,” Remus said with a wry smile. “But a beautiful witch, especially one with a mysterious background, will always draw his attention.” 

Hermione could feel heat in her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the chocolate in her hands, gingerly taking a bite. In her silence, Remus relaxed back into his chair. “I’m glad you’re doing better. You gave us a scare today, dropping out of the sky like that. It isn’t supposed to be possible to Apparate into Hogwarts and I’ve been reading since we brought you here, trying to figure out what did it.” Remus kept his tone conversational, but she knew him well enough to know the intelligent wizard was digging. Hermione weighed her options, knowing Remus was exceptionally smart, even at this age. Like her, he’d keep digging until he got answers. Unlike her, he could detect a quickened heartbeat. She decided a half truth would serve her best. 

“I think whatever I was hexed with sent me here,” Hermione said carefully. “I don’t know how that is possible, or why they would want the hex to do this.” 

Remus pursed his lips as he considered her words. She’d seen him wear that face many times when pondering a difficult question posed in DADA class or when Molly made a good point he didn’t agree with. “A hex that transports someone while also cursing their body? I haven’t heard of anything like that before.”

“Me either. It’s only a guess,” Hermione sighed. “I’d like to do some research today, if possible.” Remus’ smile was easy in response. It struck her for a moment how handsome he was when he smiled, rocketing her back to her minor crush on him in third year. Hermione looked down, fiddling with the blanket to avoid his eyes. 

“I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will have better insight. She knows how to deal with most things,” Remus said.

Hermione nodded, knowing exactly what things Remus was thinking of. She watched him withdraw into himself, deep in thought. “Thank you. For earlier, I mean. I must have scared you,” Hermione offered, hoping to bring him back out. 

“How did you know our names?” His question was not accusing, but as the memory of her panic attack surfaced, Hermione’s stomach twisted with guilt. She should have realized what was happening, kept her mouth shut to protect the timeline. Time was fragile and mucking it up could have massive consequences, let alone legal ramifications. Although, she wasn’t sure the current Ministry - the one from 1998 - would care if someone like her was breaking the law. They considered her very existence a crime, so this would just be the cherry on top.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said quickly. Remus gave her a funny look, a cross of disbelief and concern.

“Do you remember our conversation earlier?” He was clearly striving for a pleasant tone, though she could tell he was tense. That was not a surprise to her; Remus was a guarded man.

“I do. I just don’t know how to explain it,” she lied, working to keep her breathing steady and heart rate level to avoid tipping Remus off. “I mean, I’ve never met you before,” she used another half truth, as she’d never met the young men surrounding her.

“Curious,” he muttered. Hermione nodded in agreement, avoiding his gaze. “Well, I’m Remus Lupin, the one you thought was your brother is named James Potter, and the obnoxious one is Sirius Black. Another friend was here with us earlier, but has a paper due this morning, so he went up to finish it.”  _ Peter _ . Hermione stilled at the thought. She’d met Peter Pettigrew earlier, the man who was single handedly responsible for ruining the lives of the three boys surrounding her, along with stealing Harry’s happy childhood with his parents. Hermione seethed at the thought, but realized she was taking too long to answer. 

“It’s a pleasure. I’m sorry that I’m a bit out of it,” Hermione said.

“And you are?” Remus asked, an amused look on his face. Hermine could have kicked herself for not realizing he didn’t know her name and acting so familiar with him. She had given him every reason to be concerned. 

“Hermione,” she said simply, hoping he wouldn’t push for a last name. Remus narrowed his eyes at her omission, but said nothing. 

“How say you?” he asked in a louder voice, startling her. “My prisoner? Or my guest? by your dread 'Verily', One of them you shall be.” He looked at her, waiting. Hermione realized he was quoting  _ Winter’s Tale _ , a line from her namesake, and one that felt apt given her current position. 

“Isn’t that meant to be my line?” she asked, which made his eyes relax and crinkle in the corners. Hermione realized that Remus had quite nice eyes, a deep green she hadn’t spent much time looking directly into before. The warmth behind them was still there in his youth, and he was unburdened by the mental baggage his older self carried. 

“It’s nice to meet a fellow Shakespeare fan, Hermione.” Remus relaxed a bit, taking a bite of chocolate. 

“Do you have a favorite play of his?” Hermione asked, wondering if his answer would be the same. Her Remus always found time to discuss literature with Hermione, the two sharing a special affection for poetry. 

“I tend to like his tragedies,” he said with a shrug. “But probably Hamlet.” Hermione felt a smile cross her features. Remus Lupin may have been younger, but he was still, or maybe already, the same man she was lucky enough to know. He once confessed to feeling a strange bond with the titular character over late night hot chocolate at Grimmauld. “You know he was a wizard? Shakespeare.” This was a new claim she’d never heard from him. She couldn’t suppress the scoff. 

“Really? That is an unsubstantiated rumor, one that highlights the issue with blood purists. When muggles are exceptional, they try to stake a claim to their brilliance, to strengthen their insane belief that anyone without magic can’t be extraordinary.” Hermione huffed, the force of expelling the air making her wince. “Really, Remus, I’d expect better from you.” The wizard cocked a single eyebrow at her familiarity, bar of chocolate paused in front of his lips. “With your clear interest in the bard, anyway,” she added, hoping it was enough to cover the slip up prompted by her outburst. “You seem intelligent enough to know better than believe that hogwash.”

“Well then, what’s your favorite from the one hundred percent muggle playwright?” Remus asked drily. 

She ignored the quip. “While Hamlet is a delightful one, I am partial to his comedies myself. I couldn’t pick a single favorite,” Hermione said with a shrug. Talking to a more familiar Remus allowed her to feel more like herself, sans the ache in her back, which was becoming more painful. 

“That’s hardly fair.”

“Fine,” Hermione sighed, gingerly resting back in the bed. “Probably  _ Midsummer Night's Dream _ because of the fairies. I adored the idea of magic as a little girl, and I was always drawn to stories about it. Imagine my surprise when I learned that not only was magic real, but I possessed it.”

“You’re muggleborn then?” he asked without malice, more like he was confirming a hunch. 

“Erm, yes. I didn’t learn about magic until -” Hermione cut herself off, the story of her Hogwarts letter arriving about to tumble easily out of her mouth. “Until I met another witch.”

“That must’ve been quite a shock then. My mother is a muggle,” Remus offered. Hermione nodded politely, knowing that much about his family. He didn’t often speak of his parents. “It was a shock for her apparently, but she’s adapted wonderfully. Especially with the difficulties that have popped up with having a magical child.” Remus’ face darkened as he spoke and she knew he was speaking of his condition. 

“My parents haven’t done so well with that,” said the witch, the memory of her parents walking away from their family home playing in her mind. “As things started getting worse, I stopped telling them what was happening. I - they’re gone now.” Hermione said simply, not wanting to complicate this exchange. Her eyes grew heavy and she realized how tired she was.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. She could tell he meant it; Remus had never lacked compassion. They let the silence fill the gap between them, both deep in thought. Hermione could feel sleep tugging at her eyelids, the chaos of the day winning over her mind’s desire to map out a plan.

“Tell me about Hogwarts?” she asked softly, giving him a small smile.

“You want me to just tell you about this place?” he asked as he returned the look, his green eyes sympathetic to her now obvious exhaustion. At her nod, he started with the history of the founding. She fell asleep to the gravelly voice of Remus Lupin whispering facts about her favorite place. 

Hermione awoke with a start, feeling out of place again. A weight at the end of the hospital bed shifted and she looked up, expecting to see Remus still sitting there. The smile she planned to greet him with dropped when she was met with a different familiar face. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione exclaimed, surprised at how much younger the wizard looked. His signature robes remained the same, as though he stepped out of a muggle storybook. 

“Hello there,” the wizard greeted with a small smile. “It seems I’m at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger, sir,” Hermione said as her eyes traced over the shallow smile lines the wizard wore, filtering through her feelings at seeing the deceased headmaster again. She pushed her frustration with the storybook he left her aside, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Though, I don’t think I should share my last name with anyone else.” A flicker of interest passed over his face. 

“And you know me as your professor, Miss Granger? It is unusual for me to forget a student’s face.”

“Er,” Hermione stalled, trying to think through the best way to move forward with the mysterious wizard in front of her. She sighed, resigned to the fact that he would be her best chance at reversing the mystery hex and returning her to her own time. “Yes, sir. Actually, I knew you as my Headmaster since I started school at Hogwarts...in 1991.” She found it strange to see this younger man wear the exact same expression she’d seen on the older Dumbledore countless times: childlike wonder. 

“I see. And you’ve taken a trip to this time for a specific reason, I suppose?”

“Well, no. I don’t know why I’m here. Or how it is even possible without a device of some kind,” Hermione said, desperately wishing she could recall the exact date the time turner was invented. “I was in a fight and was hit with a hex. I think that’s how I ended up here, though I’m not familiar with any curse that maroons an enemy alone in a foreign time.”

“Remarkable. And where did this fight take place?”

“Hogwarts, sir. I didn’t apparate in past the wards, I was already here.” As she spoke, Dumbledore visibly relaxed. “The same hallway, different time.”

“I see. The boy who brought you here told Madam Pomfrey that you mentioned Death Eaters.” His voice trailed off as he watched for her reaction, fishing for the information she knew he didn’t want to hear.

“Yes, I was attacked by a Death Eater in Hogwarts,” Hermione offered, hoping that the half-lie would be enough. That invasive feeling in the front of her brain started, one she now knew was legilimency. It was gentler than Harry described from Snape’s personal lessons. 

“Stop!” she breathed out, throwing up hasty mental walls with a theory she’d only read about before. “Please stop!” The sensation immediately ended, though her head felt vaguely fuzzy. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead before glaring at the wizard before her; this transparent move a sharp reminder that this Dumbledore was not hers.

“I apologize,” he said solemnly. “If you are to be believed - which you certainly are from what little I saw - twenty years from now, we’ll still be fighting the same battles. You’ll have to forgive an old wizard’s curiosity.” The man looked out the window behind her bed, the turning gears in his mind nearly visible.

“Professor?” Hermione called his attention back to her. “What do you think I should do?”

“Our primary concern is to find the curse and the counter. Madam Pomfrey has explained that it is quite serious. I’d like to keep treating you here. We could go to St. Mungo’s if you prefer, but I believe Hogwarts is safer for someone like you right now.”

“Someone like me?” Hermione asked, wary of what this younger version could mean. He glanced towards her exposed forearm, the ugly red marks clear. Hermione pulled her arm away and held it to her chest, giving him a sharp nod. “I’d appreciate treatment here, sir. Thank you,” Hermione said. Countless questions sat at the seam of her lips, all wanting to spill forward. Hermione chose carefully. “How can I avoid repeating Eloise Mintumble’s mistakes? I don’t want to erase anyone from history by being here.”

“Ah, a simple question with a difficult answer. Or perhaps not. Time is not well understood by many wizards. I can tell you that you need not fear erasing anyone.”

“Sir, I’ve already interacted with far too many people who I know in my own time,” Hermione said sharply, irritated Dumbledore wasn’t taking her concerns seriously. “We have to obliviate them, that is the only way to protect the timeline.” She ignored the sadness that bubbled up when she realized the sweet boy who shared his chocolate with her would have to forget her. 

“No, I don’t believe we do.” Dumbledore smiled. “Time is not something so fragile that it can simply be tampered with. While we perceive time in a linear fashion, time itself is simply another dimension.” As he spoke he lifted the edge of the hospital blanket, holding it taunt between his two hands. “Yesterday you were in the 1990’s,” he said as he lifted one side of the section he was holding, “and you’ve gone back in time about 20 years.” He lifted the other side between his finger and his thumb. “From your perspective, time has been  _ bent _ ,” he explained, folding the blanket into a U-shape. “But time itself has not changed. Simply where you sit amidst the time stream,” Dumbledore said, letting go of one side of the blanket, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione frowned, staring at the fallen side of the blanket, her time, lost to her. “So you’re saying all of what happens to me here, has already happened? And that nothing that I do can change the future?” Hermione asked, thinking of Harry’s parents, of the Dursleys.

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side, blue eyes alight at her question. He dropped the blanket and folded his arms as he shifted back to consider her question. “Not  _ quite _ . The future you have come from has already been impacted by what you do while you are here. That is not to say that you should tell anyone you come across that you’re from the future — quite the contrary, in fact. Since this was not intentional travel I believe you were, or you will be, able to complete this journey with a minimal impact on the people of this time.” 

She blinked, thoughts racing to make sense of what he was saying, so different from how she understood time theory. “I still don’t quite understand, sir.” It was a sentence foreign in Hermione’s mouth. 

Dumbledore patted her hand. “Time is a complicated thing, my dear. Just know that while you shouldn’t worry needlessly about upsetting the timeline, you should also avoid taking needless risks.”

“You’re saying that we shouldn't worry about any potential...damage? I still have dangerous knowledge about the future.” Dumbledore was staring at her again, studying her. She shifted in the hospital bed, uncomfortable under his intense gaze. 

“We’ll give you an identity and you’ll keep all information about the future to yourself. The most dangerous thing about the situation is the unknown curse you’ve suffered.”

“You seem well-versed in the magic of time,” Hermione said, cautiously. “How do you suppose I get back?”

“Ah, a more complex question. You’ve traveled back because you always traveled back. Whether you travel forward again is an entirely different matter.”

“And if we cure my body, but I’m stuck here?” Hermione asked, trying to push down the feeling of hopelessness that bubbled up within her as she thought of being trapped in the past. She set her jaw in determination; she would not be doomed to live through the events of the first war without the ability to change things. 

“Hogwarts will be open to all students, Miss Granger. No matter when they are from.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed starting off right in the middle of the action. I can't wait to share this story. Next chapter will be up next week and we will dig in!


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